


Day of Silence (Compliance, Reliance, Defiance)

by ardett



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A little angst, Boys Kissing, I hate tags, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Silence, day of silence, minor mentions of mental abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 17:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6865975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardett/pseuds/ardett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Yahaba participates in a LGBTQ+ Day of Silence, Kentarou deals with exposing hush left in the voices absences.</p><p>(He's spent so long compliant that he's become too reliant on his own silence ever to become defiant.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day of Silence (Compliance, Reliance, Defiance)

**Author's Note:**

> So my school's LGBTQ+ and Allies club actually participated in a National Day of Silence, hosted by GLESEN in the US. Let me tell you, it's very, _very_ hard to do. My day didn't go quite like this (I didn't last the whole day, though I was silent until the end of the school day) but this is based party off fiction and party off my experience.

Kentarou knows about it, of course. Yahaba’s been hyping it up for a few days, along with his club. Like a cult, they’re all plan to wear black (instead of rainbows, like he usually sees them decked out in) and there’s stickers for binders and clothes and description badges and paper to hand-outs and flyers all over the hallway windows. 

After practice, Yahaba offers him a red sticker with a screaming mouth on it,  _ ‘Day of Silence’ _ blocked out on the bottom. He has that teasing, lilting smile on his face and because of that, Kentarou doesn’t accept it. (He’s red enough without it, blushing like a confession.)

“I’m not gay.” Kentarou mutters, looking away. His teeth bite into his cheek. Yahaba’s hand is too close in his peripheral vision, the sticker red as a beacon.

“Neither am I.” 

Kentarou glares at him but he stares back just as firmly, a dare set in the back of his eyes.

“But you’re in that club.”

“What club?”

“The club that’s doing this thing, asshole!”

Yahaba ignores the cuss and raises his eyebrows.

“It’s LGBTQ and Allies. Saying the name isn’t going to change your sexuality.” Yahaba’s face goes blank and Kentarou’s stomach twists. “Or make you an ally.”

“Whatever.” Kentarou mumbles, lip curling into a defense scowl.

He doesn’t look back as he walks away and he doesn’t take the sticker because he can’t have another badge (of incrimination and secrets and acknowledgment).

 

(Later, when he’s going to bed, he sees something red sticking out of the side pocket of his backpack. He tucks the sticker under the black shirt he’s already picked out for tomorrow.)

 

He fiddles with the sticker nervously where it rests on his jeans, just under his hipbones. His shirt is tugged over it but it crinkles with sound like a scream. He’s on the edge of ripping it off but doesn’t on pain of revealing that he ever dared to wear it. He sinks lower in his chair, hunching his shoulders up to his ears.

Yahaba walks in, trailing next to Watari. He’s smiling and Kentarou’s hands still at the hem of his shirt. On the right of his shirt is another red sticker, on the left, there’s a pinned bagde with tiny print on it, glaring and noticeable against black, black, black. Yahaba had let him read it a couple days ago, explaining the Day of Silence like Kentarou doesn’t know what it meant to live a day (a month, a year, a life) in silence.

_ ‘Please understand my reasons for not speaking today. I am participating in the Day of Silence, a national youth movement bringing attention to the silence faced by lesbian, gay, _ ’ Kentarou had stumbled over that word for a second, eyes skittering over it like a scared animal. ‘ _ Bisexual and transgender people and their allies. My deliberate silence echoes that silence, which is caused by anti-LGBT bullying, name-calling and harassment. I believe that ending the silence is the first step towards bullying awareness and making a commitment to addressing these injustices. Think about the voices you are not hearing today. _

_ ‘What are you going to do to end the silence?’ _

On the back, students’ rights were listed but Kentarou didn’t bother to read those. He shoved the paper back at Yahaba, growling something like, “Why do you think I care?”

Yahaba had replied equally as testily, “Well I’m not answering any questions on the day, so don’t be surprised when you’re left in the dark.”

 

Yahaba and Watari aren’t talking, but they wave to Kunimi and Kindaichi. They all match in stickers, though Kindaichi doesn’t have a badge. He mutters things to the other while Kentarou watches them scribble on scraps of paper.

The black draws Kentarou’s gaze, making it slide over to the mostly silent group as the period drags on. It makes Yahaba’s hair glow a little brighter, whitens his skin and teeth. Kentarou’s own black overheats him in the April sun.

Once and only once, do Yahaba’s eyes slide back to Kentarou. He raises his eyebrows, taking in Kentarou’s appearance. Kentarou feels his cheeks grow hot and looks away. Yahaba’s turned back to the front when he looks again.

 

When Kentarou sits down next to Yahaba and Kindaichi, his shirt rides up, revealing Yahaba’s sticker that he’s been shielding for most of the day. He mumbles a hello, answered only by Kindaichi.

“So just you’re talking?” He says gruffly to Kindaichi.

“I didn’t think I could last all day.” Kindaichi rubs the back of his neck. “I completely support it, of course.”

“But you’re not gay?”

Kindaichi blinks. “What?”

“Well, that’s what it’s for, right?”

By now, Yahaba would usually have a barbed retort for Kentarou but in his silence, Kentarou feels a feral unfairness rising in his gut.

“Well, I, um,” Kindaichi flails but then points past Kentarou’s shoulder. He turns to see Yahaba’s angry eyes and the piece of paper he holds in a ripping grip.

_ “Allies too. Anyone can participate.” _

The words are weak compared to what Kentarou has grown to expect and it makes him fills him with faux bravery.

“But why would you do it if you weren’t gay? That’s what everyone thinks, isn’t it?”

He watches Yahaba write in graphite, smearing the words. He writes so fast that Kentarou can barely make out the scrawl. Still, it’s not as fast as speech. He feels Kunimi and Watari’s eyes on him as he opens his lunch.

Finally, Yahaba whips the paper into his face and waits with visibly gritted teeth while Kentarou reads,

_ “1. If you’re going to be an asshole, just leave _

_ “2. It’s not your business what sexuality people are _

_ “3. I can see your sticker” _

“You gave me the fucking sticker.”

_ “You’re wearing the sticker.” _

Kentarou grabs the paper from Yahaba and before those beautiful, wide, brown eyes, he rips it in half.

Every line of Yahaba’s body reads as furious. His hands shake on his pencil.

“What are you gonna do about? Gonna yell at me?”

For a second, Kentarou thinks he will. The smile on his face falters, he feels it flicker like a firefly. The desire to hurt, not be hurt, starts following suit, guttering in his chest.

Yahaba doesn’t, of course. He just packs up his lunch and walks away. Watari’s gaze darts between the two of them but then he gets up as well. Kindaichi looks as if he’ll say something as he leaves with Kunimi but he just gives Kentarou a disquieted look.

It’s a bitter victory.

Kentarou finishes his lunch in his next class.

(He keeps the piece of paper now made into two. Yahaba’s handwriting covers it, messy in its speed. He fits a few of lines with their halfs.

_ ‘Kyoutani’s wearing black.’ _

_ ‘I don’t think it was an accident. I’ve been bugging him about it all week.’ _

_ ‘I don’t see the sticker I gave him though.’ _

_ ‘I think he’s just scared.’ _ )

 

(Yahaba’s right. But Kentarou is scared of more than just black shirts and red stickers. He’s scared of the silence.)

 

Practice is just a little off-key. It hard to know where Yahaba will send his tosses, where Watari will receive, (Kunimi is about the same, unsurprisingly). Oikawa mentions it briefly after practice is officially over, in his teasing manner.

“I think this is a wonderful little thing you guys have decided to do. You don’t know how great a day I’ve been having with a silent Iwa- ow!” Oikawa yelps as Iwazumi knocks him on the back of the head. “Well, I guess he’ll still pretty violent, unfortunately.”

“The Day of Silence is over, Trashykawa.”

“A shame, really.”

Kentarou is fixated on the sticker on Iwazumi’s shirt, peeling at the corners but very, very visible, not hidden under shirt or anything else. It still bothers him in the locker room. How could Iwazumi participate in something so… so… 

Kentarou scratches his nails into his shoulder.

It’s wrong. The whole thing is wrong.

 

(Maybe he’s wrong.)

 

Watari comes up to him, eyes hard and unforgiving.

“You should talk to Yahaba.”

“Why?” Kentarou snarls back unthinkingly. “Now he wants to yell at me?”

“No. He’s not talking all day. That doesn’t mean you don’t need to talk.”

He walks out, conversing with Kunimi and Kindaichi. Kentarou finishes changing, muscles set tense as he seeks out Yahaba.

 

He catches him as he’s walking out the gates. Yahaba sees him coming, Kentarou is sure of that, but his expression is set in stone. He stares, still in silence, as Kentarou fiddles uncomfortably with his backpack.

“C- Can I walk you home with you?” Kentarou bites the inside of his cheek as he hears the stutter loop in his mind.

Yahaba turns sharply on his heel and for some reason, like a lost dog, Kentarou follows.

It’s easy to let his mind wander in the long walk of silence. But with Yahaba in front of him, it wanders to all the wrong places until Kentarou feels too hot, melted around the edges and suffocated in the heat.

(Why can’t he be like Yahaba and Iwazumi and Kunimi and Watari? They choose their silence.)

Guilt starts to rest in his stomach as well. It makes his steps heavy as Atlas sky. He doesn’t have the right to be as cruel as he was to Yahaba, to anyone, just because he’s… he’s…

No, no, no.

 

Yahaba gestures him inside. Kentarou says a hesitant, “Pardon the intrusion,” but Yahaba shakes his head. He fumbles a new piece of paper out of his pocket, holding it against the wall to write on as Kentarou takes off his sneakers.

_ “Parents aren’t home.” _

“Oh.” Yahaba raises a judging eyebrow at the weak exclamation. Kentarou hunches his shoulders, like that will hide him.

Yahaba leads them into the living room, throwing down his backpack next to the table. Kentarou follows, feeling more and more out of place. The silence breeds its own discomfort because he’s used to Yahaba always retorting some snide remark. The quiet feels like an exposed nerve, visible and visceral.

_ “Homework?” _

“Um, I guess.”

Yahaba makes to take out his book but Kentarou interrupts, “Are you really not gonna talk all day? Everyone else talked when they started going home.”

Kentarou sees Yahaba’s frame sag, just barely, as he exhales. He taps his pencil on the paper once, before writing, “ _ Wait.” _

Kentarou blinks at the words as it disappears quickly when Yahaba snatches the paper back to scribble on, long sentences of gray on white.

Kentarou waits.

Finally, with a huff that sounds like frustration and exhaustion, Yahaba slides the paper over to Kentarou.

_ “I know I don’t have to do this because I’m lucky that way. The point of this day is not to just get out of talking in class, or cheapskate at practice. It’s supposed to be hard. It’s hard to do this for one day and some people have to do this for years, a lifetime. They can’t talk about this huge part of themselves at school or at home and it’s hard to live in that kind of silence. Even while I’m doing it, just for one day, I can feel that pressure and guilt of not wanting to speak. Things I would normally say or do are harder to get out, or not worth the effort. So I just don’t bother. The silence kind of suffocates you. It can change what a person is like and that’s why we have to change it, raise awareness, because once you understand what it’s like to have the weight of this silence, you understand that people can’t live like this.” _

Kentarou finishes the paragraph but he doesn’t look up, fixating on the last period until the dot becomes a black hole. His heart is pounding in his ears and all he can think is that Yahaba knows, _ he knows _ , but he can’t because Kentarou can’t be that way,  _ he’s not that way. _ The paper crinkles loudly in his grip and Yahaba is staring at him like he expects him to rip it in half again.

Like he expects Kentarou to only be someone who hurts, not is hurt.

And that hurts.

“I-” He lies right through his teeth, as he shoves the words back at Yahaba. “I don’t understand.”

The look Yahaba gives him cuts straight down to his heart, the kind of deep disappointment he’s seen before. Right before someone gave up on him.

_ “Yes, you do.” _

“No, I don’t.” Kentarou digs his nails into the cushion beneath him. There’s a ringing in his ears, like thousand alarms of danger and a thousand times his dad screamed at him and a thousand times his mom sighed and muttered just under his hearing and a thousand times he’s tried to say Yahaba’s name but couldn’t.

Yahaba’s hand is on his shoulder and it sear into his skin but Kentarou is too stuck in his own head to move it. Yahaba’s eyes darken as Kentarou’s widen and he’s leaning down and Kentarou sucks in a breath.

Like the quietest of blessings, Yahaba kisses him. 

He expects it to be fierce and angry and violent because that’s how he feels right now and that’s how he thinks Yahaba feels about it him, but it’s not. It’s soft and slow and forgiving. It sooths over his burned, wronged soul.

He responds without meaning to, moving his lips against Yahaba’s, pushing slightly into the kiss. Somewhere in between, his eyes closed and all he feels is that safety pressing back.

The kind of safety that coaxes secrets from his heart and words from his throat and touches from his fingers.

“I-” He whispers between Yahaba’s lips. “I-” Yahaba’s eyelashes brush against his skin and Kentarou whimpers as Yahaba sucks gently on his bottom lip. His eyes flutter shut, dark and light and dark.

Yahaba pulls back slowly and Kentarou lets his head fall on his shoulder. Yahaba’s hands stroke circles on his back, between his shoulder blades and the ridges of his spine. He squeezes his eyes shut, teeth digging into his lip until he gasps, “I can’t say it-” 

It feels like it will burst from his chest, expanding, expanding, but still, he can’t manage to get the words past his throat.

The silence is too familiar.

But Yahaba just nods, pressing another soft kiss on Kentarou’s collarbone. One of his hands stays tracing on Kentarou, the other picks up the pencil again.

_ “I’ll be here when you can.” _

**Author's Note:**

> Side Note: Yahaba was bisexual, in case the weird comment at the beginning threw you off. For no reason other than because I wanted to.


End file.
